Fields of Grace (15 page)

With another nod, Nora glided away toward a set of wooden double doors.

Henrik watched her until she disappeared behind the doors. Then he turned and caught Lillian smiling at him. He fussed with the edge of the white napkin lying on the table, carefully clearing all expression from his face. Lillian bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from giggling. Perhaps Henrik was finally beginning to forget Susie Friesen.

True to her promise, Nora served them an enticing meal of seasoned pork chops, mashed sweet potatoes swimming in butter, whole green beans, and fluffy rolls on homey, blue-speckled plates. While they ate, she hovered beside their table, visiting with them as if they were elite guests rather than common immigrants. Joseph peppered her with questions, all of which she answered without hesitation. They learned she had been raised in the eastern United States and even had attended a university in New York City. Upon graduating, she had traveled to Kansas in response to her great-aunt’s plea for help in her restaurant.

“Since I am able to speak fluently in four different languages, I can converse with many of the immigrants who arrive on the trains.”

Henrik’s brows formed a sharp V. “If you have such education, why do you work as a server?”

Nora laughed lightly, proving she took no offense at Henrik’s bold query. “I have few skills other than speaking in many languages. But I see that ability as a gift. I believe this is where the Lord guided me, allowing me to use my ability to help newcomers like yourselves feel welcome.”

“You have made us feel very welcome,” Lillian assured her. Her fondness for this young woman grew with each passing moment.

“Then I am satisfied.” Nora flashed another smile around the table. Then she looked up. “Oh! Another guest. Excuse me.” She scurried toward the front door. Lillian looked over her shoulder. Eli had arrived. Half rising, Lillian waved at him.

Eli tipped his hat to Nora, then strode directly to their table. He sat across from Lillian and removed his hat. Looking at their empty plates, he licked his lips. “
Nä-jo
, it appears you had a
goot
meal for sure.”

Moments later, Nora brought him a plate of thick chops. Lillian sipped hot, sweet coffee and listened to Henrik and Joseph visit with Nora while Eli cut into his pork chops. When he had finished, he wiped his mouth with a napkin, placed it beside his plate, then patted his stomach.

“
Ach
, that was very good. The best since we left Gnadenfeld.”

Nora poured coffee from a tall enamel pot into Lillian’s cup and then picked up Eli’s empty plate. “
Danke schoen
. I will tell Aunt Toadie you approved of the meal. May I bring you a piece of pie?”

After a moment of thought, Eli shook his head. “My stomach is full. But
dank
.”

Nora bid the family farewell and hurried toward the doors that led to the kitchen.

Eli leaned his elbows on the table. “I tell you what I have gotten done since you left the train.”

Lillian marveled at all Eli had accomplished in the past hour. After visiting with a railroad representative and making arrangement for the purchase of 240 acres of land near a town called Newton, he had bought a wagon—“Called a prairie schooner,” he said with a wink at Joseph—and two pairs of oxen to pull it.

“Not horses?” Henrik’s tone carried scorn. Eli’s choice surprised Lillian, too. In Gnadenfeld, he had been known as a fine horseman. Surely he would prefer horses.

“Oxen are sturdy beasts,” Eli said without a hint of remorse, “better suited to this hard landscape. One had a calf not long ago, so she will give us milk for our journey. They will take us to our land, and then they will take turns pulling the plow I bought.” His expression turned dreamy. “This land, Lillian, is meant to receive seed. We will be successful here. I feel it in my bones.”

Henrik’s soft snort didn’t even make Eli flinch.

“We must go back to the railroad station now and load our trunks onto the wagon. Then we will purchase supplies at the general store, and off we go to our new land!”

Joseph propped his elbows on the table’s edge, imitating Eli’s pose. “How will we know where to go? Are there roads?”

“
Jo
, boy, there are some roads. But look here.” Eli slipped a round disc from his pocket and held it on the palm of his hand. Joseph leaned in eagerly, and even Henrik angled his head to see. “The wainwright gave this to me. It is a compass.” He pointed to a tiny hand quivering on the dial. “See here these letters? They mean north, south, east, and west. This will help us stay on course.”

Joseph nodded and his hair flopped over his forehead. “The ship’s captain used a tool like this to keep us on course on the ocean.”

“I am certain the captain’s tool was much more complex than this,” Eli responded, “but it will suit our purpose.” He grinned at Lillian. “Newton is southwest of Topeka, so . . .” Turning again to Joseph, he said, “The compass is very smart and this little pin shows us where north can be found. So if the compass points north, what line on the compass will point to our new home?”

Joseph jammed his finger against the glass cover on the disc halfway between S and W. “Here!”

“
Jo,
good job. You will make a fine navigator for us.”

The boy beamed. Eli slipped the disc back into his pocket and looked at Lillian. “We will be required to stop in Newton and ask for someone to accompany us to the piece of property I purchased. The land sellers sent a telegram to let them know to expect us.”

Everything was falling neatly into place, just as Reinhardt had planned. Lillian vacillated between gladness that their dreams were coming true and grief that not all members of her family were here to see the dream unveiled.

Eli pushed his palms against the table, rising. “Now we must buy our supplies. Come. We want to leave Topeka before evening. From now on, we camp until we reach our land, and I do not know how many cities with stores we will find in between. So we must make good and thorough selections while we are here and supplies are plentiful.”

Then he faced Joseph again, his eyes twinkling. “Speaking of selections, Joseph, I have a special job for you.”

Joseph pressed his palm to his chest. “For me?”

“
Jo
. I met a man who will sell us some chickens. Our wagon has a place to hang a chicken cage, so I am thinking it would be good for us to have fresh eggs as we travel and for when we reach our land. Oxen and horses I know, but I did not raise birds on my farm. You fed the neighbor’s chickens in Gnadenfeld. Do you think you could choose for us some good laying hens?”

Joseph nearly danced with excitement. “
Jo, Onkel
Eli! I will choose the very best ones!”

Eli slung his arm around Joseph’s shoulders, and they headed for the outside door. Lillian followed, words of praise for Eli filling her mind. Eli placed such confidence in Joseph. The boy would surely flourish beneath Eli’s attention and care.

Then she glanced at Henrik, and her heart fell. His sullen expression had returned. It would take more than letting him choose chickens to reach Henrik.

14

C
an you build an outdoor fire?” Eli asked Lillian as the boys headed off to look for dead limbs.

She lifted her chin. “I built many fires in
ne Oweback
at home
.
An outdoor flame cannot be any harder to strike than one in an oven.”

Eli noted that weariness lined her face, making her appear older than her thirty-eight years, yet she expressed no complaint, only a willingness to do what was needed. She walked to the jockey box hanging on the wagon’s sideboard and flipped it open. Slipping the packet of wooden matches into her skirt pocket, she drew in a breath and pointed to the roadway they had just covered.

“I am going to look along the road for rocks to circle my cook fire.” She glanced across the area where Eli had indicated they would camp. “I would not wish this grass to catch the flame.”

“That is sound thinking.” Eli wanted to tell her how much he appreciated her positive, hardworking attitude, but a lump blocked his throat, holding the words of praise inside. He released the two lead oxen from their yoke and called a warning: “Watch the grass for snakes.”

Lillian jolted, momentarily ceasing her progress. Then she bent over and snatched up a sturdy twig. She continued, slashing the grass with her stick.

Quite a woman, his
frü
. His
wife
. He savored the American word as he guided the oxen to the back of the wagon and tied their leads to a rear wheel. Although marrying Lillian had been a decision born of necessity, he already recognized his long-held brotherly fondness for her deepening to something more. His gaze followed her, watching her stoop to lift a rock and drop it in the pouch made with her apron, then walk a few steps farther, her head turning this way and that in search of sizable stones. The bouncing wagon ride, with wind-carried dust constantly pelting them, had worn him down. Lillian could be no less weary, yet she didn’t sit in the shade and complain. Instead, she gathered stones so she could safely build a fire to prepare their supper.

Eli scratched an ox’s head while considering the cheerful spirit Lillian possessed. With all she’d lost, she should be mired in grief. But not once since the day she’d held Jakob’s lifeless body in her arms had she spoken of either Reinhardt or Jakob. She didn’t look back, but forward—to the future. Their future . . .

His thoughts skipped ahead to nightfall. Until this time there had been separate areas for sleeping. But tonight there were no hotel rooms or berths or sleeping hallways to keep them apart. How could he offer Lillian at least the semblance of privacy? He and the boys could throw pallets anywhere and lie in a row, but Lillian? She needed her own spot.

He ran his hand along the smooth line of the bonnet covering the sturdy bed of the wagon as he moved to release the second pair of oxen. In his mind’s eye, he reviewed the crowded space inside the wagon. Trunks and supplies filled the bed, but maybe they could lay a feather mattress across the trunks for Lillian. Then he and the boys could sleep on pallets beneath the wagon, where they would have some protection.

The boys’ banter carried to his ears, and he looked up to see them heading toward the wagon with their arms full of twigs. Lillian came from the opposite direction holding the corners of her apron, which hung low and tight with its load. His heart seemed to double in size, filling his chest. His family . . .

Swallowing, he raised his hand and waved. “Hurry now! Night will soon fall, and we want to have a nice meal together before we sleep.”

Lillian proved an adept fire builder, and soon she had a pan of
Bobbat
, a hearty bread laden with meat and dried fruit, baking over a snapping fire. A tall coffeepot balanced on the rocks guarding the fire, the liquid boiling while the
Bobbat
baked. Good smells lifted on the breeze, nearly turning Eli’s stomach inside out with anticipation. He and Henrik kept busy smoothing out the ground beneath the wagon and then laying out their bedding. Joseph freed the three speckled hens from their cage and watched them scratch in the dirt near the wagon.

Dusk fell, soft and rosy, with the wind gentling as the sun slinked toward the horizon. Lillian removed plates from the back of the wagon and called, “
Nä-jo
, Joseph, put the clucks in their box so we can eat.”

They sat in a circle around the fire, and Eli prayed for their simple meal, adding, “Thank You, our Father, for providing us with a new home. Take us safely to it and may it provide our needs according to Your riches in glory. Amen.”

“Amen,” Lillian whispered, the simple expression carrying a deep note of appreciation.

For a moment their gazes met across the flickering fire, and Eli wondered if the high color in her cheeks came from the fire’s heat or from a heat within. Before he could explore the answer, Joseph held out his plate.

“Cut me a big piece, Ma. I am starving.”

Laughing, Lillian divided the
Bobbat
into four wedges and served each of them. Eli forked up a big bite, his mouth watering. Usually well-flavored with fresh sausage and plump raisins and baked in a mud-brick oven, the open-fire
Bobbat
contained chunks of dried beef and chopped dried apricots. Despite the differences, it was every bit as good as the original version. He ate with relish, as did his companions. No one talked; they were too tired, Eli supposed, to think of words to say. When they finished, Lillian pushed to her feet and reached for the plates.

But Eli shook his head. “
Nä
, you cooked; we men will clean up.”

Henrik made a face, but he stood and headed for the water barrel.

“No water, boy.” Eli’s words stilled Henrik in his tracks. “We only have the two water barrels, and I do not know when we will have the chance to fill them again, so we must use the water sparingly. We will only use water for drinking and cooking.”

Joseph sat straight up. “No bathing?” Elation filled his voice.

Eli swallowed a chuckle and opened his mouth to confirm Joseph’s assessment, but the dismay on Lillian’s face made him offer a compromise. “Your mother will dip a cloth, and we can use that to wash our faces and hands. If we come upon a creek, we will bathe and give our dishes a thorough scrubbing. But for tonight we will scrape these plates and pan good with a fork and make do.” Turning to Lillian, he said, “You have had a long day, Lillian. Go . . . ready yourself for sleep while the boys and I clean the dishes. I—we—Henrik and me—made a bed for you in the wagon.”